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~~~***~~~
To be honest, Greg wasn’t entirely sure this whole camping palaver was a good idea to begin with. And now, with the rate Alex is knocking back drinks, he’s certain.
He gets it, to a degree. This is what the whole endeavour was for, after all. There’s been this… twinge of discomfort, a feeling like they’re not quite getting each other, for a while.
They want to be friends, proper friends, they really do, that’s clear – but there’s something they need to knock through first. Greg’s not sure what that something is, and right now, joining Alex in getting absolutely shitfaced sounds a lot more appealing.
Thankfully, Alex is turning out to be quite a lovely, dopey kind of drunk. His eyes are already a tiny bit squinty, but they’re sparkly and happy too. He looks loose and properly relaxed in a way Greg’s never quite seen him before.
The jokes are flowing as easily as the drinks, Greg recounting some of his favourite stories to peals of honking laughter, and he’s being strongly reminded of why he agreed to Taskmaster in the first place – Alex is actually very, very funny. And, even when he’s utterly inebriated, inescapably intelligent.
In short order, however, Greg wonders if he needs to reconsider that last opinion.
“Oh!!” Alex suddenly exclaims, waving his arms about, eyes wide like he’s about to declare he’s found the cure for cancer. “I brought something for ush! Wait there, don’t go running off nowhere now!”
Greg frowns. Something was wrong about that statement, he knows it, but downing this vodka Red Bull (triple vodka? He doesn’t know -or care really- how much he sloshed into the plastic tumbler) seems far more urgent.
The campfire’s gone a bit blurry. Greg shakes his head. There, that’s better.
Alex rushes back, in a not quite straight line, with something clearly hidden behind his back.
“Ta da!” He declares, presenting… two top hats. One slightly smaller than the other, and a matching cheap-as-fuck-fancy-dress-party-style cane to go with them.
“This one’s for you, obviously.” Alex says slowly, over-enunciating in the way very drunk people do to try and seem more sober than they are. He hands Greg the larger of the two top hats and the cane.
Greg accepts them, because… what other option is there?
“And this one’s for me!” Alex enthuses, popping the smaller of the two top hats onto his head – grinning like he’s done something terribly clever.
“Alex Horne. You are ridiculous. And drunk. And ridiculously drunk. What the fuck?”
“Ish not my fault you're a much bigger vessel for holding your liquors in!”
Greg blinks. “And?”
“I made a game for us! A little ice breaker game!” Alex offers by way of explanation, and then seems to flush a little redder than he was before. “And alsho, I thought, I would look very silly in a top hat, and you would look very sexy in a top hat.”
“You did, did you?” Greg dons the top hat, and quirks The Sexy Eyebrow™ at him.
Alex fans his hands in front of his face dramatically. “Good Lord Greg, if you carry on like that I’ll be pitching a tent of my own.”
Greg cannot help but laugh at how appalled Alex is by the words that just came out of his own mouth.
“Wow! That was out of character!” Greg guffaws. Alex has gone a little pale. “Have another drink, and then tell me about this game then.”
Alex obeys without thinking, because of course he does, slurping loudly from his own plastic tumbler.
“It’s great! You’re gonna love it! It’s…” Alex pauses, staring off into space somewhere over Greg’s shoulder.
“Oh shit.” Alex smacks a hand over his own mouth when he catches himself swearing. “I… I can’t actually remember. Oh no! Did I put it in notes in my phone?” he asks himself, patting wildly at his pockets in search of said phone.
Right, enough’s enough.
“Alex, if you cannot remember the rules of a task, or even what that task is, then you must be on the verge of serious alcohol poisoning. We are both going to drink a LOT of water, and then we are going to bed.”
“Together?” Alex wiggles his eyebrows cheekily.
“Christ! It’s even worse than I thought.” Greg mutters, although he is amused. He grabs Alex’s drink, and tosses it onto the flames of the campfire, only realising a moment after he’s done it that that might not have been a particularly clever thing to do. Thankfully, the only result is some noxious smoke.
“Alright! Water! Bed!” Greg bellows.
He manages to get some water down Alex and himself, and remembers they have some sand to safely extinguish the campfire. Alex slurs a goodnight and takes Loky off for a wee somewhere.
And then… then Greg has an urge he can’t resist.
~~~***~~~
When Alex gets back to their tents, shivering a little now because away from the campfire it’s rather chilly, he assumes Greg has gone to sleep. Thankfully he did remember to take his phone with him, and uses the torch to find his way and zip open his own tent…
Only to find Greg laid out, shirtless, in his sleeping bag – with the top hat perched on his head (at a jaunty angle, of course) and the cane draped across his hips.
“How’s THIS for sexy?” Greg purrs at him.
“Growl!” Alex attempts, and manages a straight face for a full two seconds before he giggles.
Greg can’t keep it together either, and laughs at his own silliness.
“Come on! I know you’re freezing, and I need to make sure you don’t manage to drown in your own vomit during the night. Also, I demand a cuddle after the nightmare trip you’re putting me through. No bloody funny business though! And I swear to God if you even think about getting an erection, the punishment will be horrific.” Greg points the cane threateningly to illustrate his point.
For a moment, Alex just stares. Then smiles and shrugs. “Okay!” he chirps, and gets Loky settled in her little dog bed. Actually… that gives him an idea for the show…
“Good boy, good girl.” Greg congratulates them. Loky’s tail wags. Alex’s would, if he had one. Oh, there’s another idea for the show, actually.
Trying to act casual, though even through the drunken haze Alex can admit it’s… yeah, it’s a little weird, even for them, he shuffles down next to Greg, who’s placed the cane off to one side. Still within reach, however – presumably in case he needs to beat Alex off during the night. Heh, Alex thinks.
Greg rolls onto his side, and lifts the edge of the sleeping bag in invitation.
Alex sighs. “I assume I’m the little spoon, then?”
“The very littlest of little spoons. C’mon!”
The logistics are a bit tricky – neither the tent nor the sleeping bag are ideally designed for this – but they manage it. Wow, Greg is deliciously warm, and it’s not really all that hard to relax into it.
Alex snuffles happily. “It’s very sweet that you’re worried about me, you know.”
Greg sighs dramatically. “I can’t fathom it, but for some reason, I do actually quite like you.”
Alex rolls over a little to look Greg in the eyes.
“Love me?”
“Not a chance you little shrew.” Greg whispers, but his words are somewhat undercut by him planting a soft kiss to Alex’s forehead.
And suddenly, there it is, that thing they couldn’t get through, that thing that was standing in the way. Eyes locked, they let the shared insight flow between them.
They both want. They’re both scared.
“Greg? Please?”
Greg doesn’t know if he even hears it with his ears, or only in his mind, or just reads it from the doe-eyed expression on Alex’s face, but does it really matter?
They both move at the same time, and just like that, they’re kissing for real. It’s weird and it’s different and it’s… certainly something, all right. Something like melting, something like giving up the fight, and it feels so wrong, it must be right.
The world spins, time stands still.
Alex jolts and places both hands against Greg’s shoulders, pushing him away.
“Greg!” he pants. “I’m really, really sorry. As much as I am very much enjoying kissing you right now… I think I’m about to throw up.”
Greg falls onto his back, laughing his own slightly-roiling guts out.
“You’re alright, thankfully I know for a fact that I’m an amazing kisser.”
They’re just gonna have to drill down into that particular narrative at some other point. Alex sits up, a little shakily, and Greg instinctively starts rubbing soothing circles on his back.
“There you go, easy now, deep, slow breaths.” Greg reaches somewhere and comes back with a bottle of water. “Little sips now, just little ones… that’s it, there you go! Very good boy.”
Alex listens, and obeys, and tries to tamp down how furious he is with himself for maybe ruining the one chance he was ever going to get. Not to mention, he might not even remember this. Can you never forgive yourself for something you can’t remember?!
Greg’s voice is soothing and low and perfect against his ear. “Are you okay now, baby boy? Do you want to go outside and just get it out?”
“No, I’m okay now, I think.” A few more deep breaths. “Thank you. I’m sorry. Thank you.” (In his head, dear reader, Alex adds: Daddy. But it’s going to be a few more years before he’s brave enough to say that out loud.)
~~~***~~~
Greg leaves the water within reach, makes sure Alex is nicely tucked in, and silently exits Alex’s tent. He lights a cigarette, briefly ponders going back in to retrieve the top hat and cane, and promptly thinks: fuck it. Let it drive him crazy. Fair’s fair.
There is absolutely no way that Alex is going to remember a single moment of the night’s proceedings. And that’s not a bad thing. It can be like it never happened.
Greg’s a very good actor. It can be like it never happened.